Shades Of Gray
by Spring-Heel-Jacq
Summary: Slavery, betrayal, love, deception
1. Introduction

I apparently had this story up under my file since middle school and I though I would revive it and share it with others. Though here is the first chapter, I am going to go back and do more changes on it . . . cause I personally don't like it . . . and I think I'm going to have the story in third person limited . . . or somewhat like that . . .

Anyhow, I think I'm going to use name variations and cognates for the _Chipmunks_ and _Chipettes_ in this story. For instance, instead of "Simon," I may call him "Simeon" or another variation or cognate name. So you the reader get to decide which name variant of "Alvin" you wish me to call him under my wall! :) Oh, please ignore the Anglo-Saxon variants, I thought those two were the only variants or cognate forms of "Alvin" before I came across another site about first names . . . unless someone votes for either one I don't care.

**DISCLAIMER!**

Formally _**Bagdasarian Film Corporation**_, _Alvin Seville_ rightfully belongs to both **_Ross Bagdasarian Sr._** and** _Ross Bagdasarian Jr._** as well as **_Janice Karman _**under **_Bagdasarian Productions_**.

_Ian Hawke_ is the main antagonist played by _**David Cross**_ in the live action/CGI Alvin and the Chipmunks and its sequels, Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel and the upcoming Alvin and the Chipmunks: CHIPWRECKEDU.

_Claudia Vorstein_ is a fictional European diamond smuggler in the 1987 American animated film The Chipmunk Adventure directed by **_Janice Karman_** from a screenplay by**_ Ross Bagdasarian Jr_**.**_  
_**

* * *

A Caucasian man of five foot nine in his late thirties and early forties exited out of the large white mansion with fluted columns and a broad porch. The man wore a black eye wear, the single lens held in place under the ridge of his right eyebrow and a deep jet black tuft of hair on his chin. A viridian colored frock rested on his wide broad shoulders unbuttoned, revealing a vest was over a white shirt with ruffles and a top hat rested neatly on his head. A cord wrapped through the belt loops around his narrow waist, holding his pantaloons up. Placing his top hat neatly back on his thinning bald head, the man turns to face the blonde woman in a Thulian pink bulky, utilitarian garment now standing in the doorframe. Her blue eyes connecting with his brown ones.

"I wish to thank you again for allowing me to stay overnight my dear," he amiably began, bringing her hand closer to his face and plants a kiss on the back. The woman's boney cheeks turned a hue of pinkish-red, watching the man turn on his heels and made his way down the steps of the porch and onto the cobblestone walkway. He looked back at her.

"I shall see you soon, Miss Vorstein," he added. Two or three yards down, he instantly turned right on the adjacent narrow dirt path that curves to the side of the house, leading up to a dilapidated, windowless shack sitting out of place in front of the oak trees. The man opened the wooden door, rotting with age. It's rusted hinges creaks as the man swings the door open and closes it behind him.

Rays of sunlight shone through the crevices between the logs, admitting sufficient light for the man to see. The floor of the shack a miry pigsty, a putrid smell of diarrhea and vomit lingered in the air and a sole lantern dangled in the center of the shack, broken. Thrown down in the far corner was a makeshift bed of collected straw and old rags. On top of the pile rested a young anthropomorphic peachy-furred male chipmunk, a thinly stroud blanket covered his body, his feet and ankles peeped from under the cloth. An authentic hand-forged three quarters of an inch thick, two-pound, six-ounce iron collar wrapped around his neck, a spear like shape on each side of the collar rested on his shoulders. A silent moan escaped the chipmunk's parched lips as his stomach twisted, emitting a low growl.

Looking around, the slave trader saw a rusted steel bucket filled with putrid water near the door. Without hesitation, the man grasped the bucket and headed to the slave.

"Get up," the man snapped, his voice changing to a controlling demeanor, splashing the water on the slave. The chipmunk instantly jolted awake. Before his mind could process any information, the slave trader took hold of a rope ten feet long connected to the link of the manacles bounding the young slave's wrists.

Once outside, the chipmunk took in a deep breath of fresh spring air, his chest puffing out. The strong odors in the shack as well as the collar made his night stay unsettling. Meters from the awaiting horse and coach, the slave instantly hissed as he felt a sharp pain like a needle stabbing him in the arch of his foot followed by a dull thudding. The chipmunk felt a single tear trek down his cheek and off his chin, watching a bee buzz past his peripheral view. The slave let out a hoarse scream as another hidden bee sent its stinger through the thin cloth wrapped around his foot and into his other arch, this one painful from the first sting. He forced himself to keep walking, trying to ignore the pain, which proved unbearable as he collapsed to his side. The wind instantly knocked out of him as he felt a boot kicking into his chest.

"Get up ya scut!" The slave trader kicked him again. Spittle of saliva sprayed the young chipmunk's face as he quickly scrambled to his feet once again. In front of the plantation, the horse neighed, seemingly laughing at the slave's misfortune.

"Get one step out of line and I'll give ya a whippin' Alvyn!" the slave trader warned. Alvyn nimbly nodded a yes, his vision fuzzy gray and his mind mentally unclear.

Alvyn and the slave trader went behind the coach and the slave trader tied the rope through the hasp on the coach. The bald man stepped into the coach and took hold of the reigns. Alvyn soon trailed behind the coach as he began his long journey on foot.


	2. Goodman's Manor

Here's the belated addition to this story, err, at least the third of it anyways. As you people can see, I left out the house description because I had hard time explaining it. Well actually, I just need to explain what the setting is. That's only the first problem I had, so I just simply cut to the introduction of characters.  
The second is form of addresses people with titles. So if anybody could help me out, I would _really_ appreciate it! PM me when you do!  
Last thing is I have **no** idea how negotiations between a slave buyer and slave seller would go, which is why I have a dotted line. If anyone could help me out, PM me!  
And for the clothing, I will base them off the articles of clothing worn in Europe from 1770's to 17750's. Unfortunately, the dang book doesn't exactly say which caste wore what. Not to mention that they words informal and formal kept screwing my mind!  
If there are other inconsistencies, please notify me via PM.

And as promised, for those who enjoy science fiction as well as suspense and mysteries, go check out **Continuum Regained**'s "The Mind's Grey Area" starring Simon Seville! I think he'll be appreciative if you people reviewed his story!  
"Trapped, but where? Is this place a prison or an escape in itself? Under the constant surveillance of the mysterious Tulig, Simon tries to find a way out. But escape would mean abandoning Jeanette. Welcome to The Estate. Population: Unlimited." ~ "The Mind's Grey Area" summary

Also, I think you guys should read the sci-fi/adventure "TeCoven Generation" by PrincessLeeLee7, she's a newcomer here in fanfiction and the story is just astounding! The summary is as followed: "When their talents are analyzed without their knowledge, two teenagers are unwillingly sent off to camp to become part of a private agency where aged mysteries are revealed."

**Daddy'sGirl123**: Thanks for your first comment!

**ILuvLucyPevensie**: *singsong* Not gonna tell you, ne-ne-ne-ne-ne-neh-neh

**Sum141 is too lazy to sign in**: Haha. Thanks.

**Izaackjl**: Thanks

**The Chipette Protector**: And I can't wait to see how I'm gonna end this . . .

**Continuum Regained**: Thank you for commenting for both here and SIM·N!

**DISCLAIMER**

_Alvin Seville_, _Jeanette Miller_, _Miss Beatrice Miller_ and _Brittany Miller_ are all created and belong to **_Ross Bagdasarian Sr._** and** _Ross Bagdasarian Jr._** as well as **_Janice Karman _**under **_Bagdasarian Productions_**, formally **_Bagdasarian Film Corporation_**.

_Ian Hawke_ is the main antagonist played by _**David Cross**_ in the live action/CGI Alvin and the Chipmunks and its sequela, Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel and Alvin and the Chipmunks: CHIPWRECKED.

_Drake Harris_ is an OC created and owned by **_Scarcrow88_**.

_Brian Timothy Smitherman_ is an OC created and owned by _**ChipmunkFan19**_.

* * *

The man grasped the ring in the gargoyle doorknocker, lifts and strikes the plate fitted to the door. Soft sounds of footsteps became louder and clicking resounded on the other side. The brass doorknob turned and a young peach colored furred female chipmunk face appeared. Her disheveled chocolate brown hair held in a tight bun and wore a long sleeved, light purple and white shirt and petticoat. The female chipmunk squinted her dark green eyes at the slave trader through her thin, metal-rimmed glasses.

"H-h-how may I help you?" she inquires a hint of nervousness hidden in her voice.

"I am Ian Hawke and I'm here for Governess Beatrice Goodman inquires of a slave she bought from my auctioning stand." A cold shiver ran down the spectacled ánthrōpos morphē chipmunk at the brusque, bitter response.

Gulping away her uneasiness, the female chipmunk slave opened the double doors, revealing a circular gilded brass chandelier reminiscent of a crown layered with glass contented of lead giving it special qualities of clarity, resonance and softness in the middle of the vast foyer, its Venetian plaster walls formed a square. Below the chandelier, a blue stoned mosaic medallion with a marble dove holding a rose in the middle surrounded by waxed parquet flooring and white splashed walls.

In front of the threesome laid a grand staircase featured an oak paneling, custom wrought iron banister and a bronze cherub holding a torch that served as a lamp support on the bottom newel post of the middle railing. The first bottom three steps wider than the rest as well as rounded thus allowing the balusters to form a wide semicircle around the circumference and the handrail has a horizontal spiral supporting the top of the balusters. A deep red carpet with yellow gold thick trimming rests on the cool granite steps.

"She's waiting for you in the sitting room," was the faint response as the chocolate brown haired female chipmunk leads the way to an adjacent room on the left of the foyer.

"Come on." Hawke pulled the rope hard, jerking Alvyn's arms forward, the slave nearly tripping over his two feet.

"Oomph!" came the only sound out of the slave as he trailed behind Hawke.

An Armenian embroidery carpet lies in the center of the room, under the crystal chandelier. A glass table with a florid three-dimensional design inside the table face rested on top. A gray haired woman had her back to the three. She seemed to be whispering to someone out of both Ian Hawke and Alvyn's perspective on one of the two upholstered oak wooden armchair with amber cushioned seat near the window with crisscrossed curtains that faced out front. Two seconds later, the woman turned her attention to the guests.

The heavyset elderly woman wore a French rose gown with fabric at the back arranged in box pleats, a type of fold formed by doubling fabric back upon itself and securing it in place, which fell loose from the shoulder to the floor with a slight train. In front of the gown was open, showing off a decorative stomacher, pieces of jewelry ornamented the triangular panel as well as panniers under the petticoat. The gown had elbow length sleeves that were trimmed scalloped ruffles and frills called engageantes, or false sleeves, to go with the attire.

Alvyn's eyebrows rose, stretching the furred skin below the eyebrows, the upper eyelid raised to the socket whilst the lower lid drawn down, exposing the white sclera above and below his azure blue irises at the sight of a female chipmunk stepped from behind the woman, taking a spot to the left of her. The chipmunk wore a deep pink Mantua. The Mantua featured elbow-length cuffed sleeves and the overskirt drawn back over the hips, exposing the ivory petticoat. A laced pattern of pink loops stitched along the edge of the petticoat.

The auburn haired female chipmunk observed the peach toned fur chipmunk in chains before her. Strands of hair from the slave's chunky tuft of hair fell limply in his azure blue eyes. The tissues under his eyes swelled along with visible dark blemish. Scars and bruises discernible on his straight body, she felt her stomach turn as she saw the outlines of his ribcage. Despite the slave's thin frame, he has standard muscle tone and broad tapered shoulders. She glances lower, her face instantly turning involuntary red at the one-piece male garment covering the slave's genitals and hopefully his buttocks. Two pieces of torn and worn out rotting cloth wrapped around his feet.

Both females stopped mere inches from Urquhart. The ends of the woman's lips curled into a gentle smile.

"Madam Goodman, Master Urquhart is here with the sss-sslave you wished to see." The brown haired female chipmunk struggled to get "slave" out, almost as if it was poison to her.

"Thank you Jeanette, you may go." Jeanette silently nodded, turned on her heels to leave when the governess spoke once again.

"Oh! Fetch Drake and Brian and have them wait around the corner of the foyer until I call them."

"Yes ma'am." Jeanette hurried out the room and turned a corner. A moment of silence lingered in the air before Ms. Goodman cleared her throat and looked at the auburn chipmunk next to her.

"Brittany, would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Of course mother." Alvyn blinked. Mother?

As Brittany passes Alvyn, a whiff of fragrant essential oils tickled his nose. Hawke's upper lip rises, baring his clenched teeth and nostrils widening in disgust as he eyed the auburn chipmunk left the room. Before turning a corner, Brittany took one last look at the slave. Her jaw slightly opened and heart sinking as she took note of his back seamed and ridged with scars of a whip and hickory. His fur almost gone, succeeded by streaked and speckled appearance of pale peach. Burned in his shoulder blade was a crooked "S."

"Would you like to take a seat Master Hawke?" The sound of the elderly woman's honeysweet voice brought both males attention to her.

"I would be delighted." Hawke jerked the rope once again, pulling Alvyn out of his thoughts as the man made his way to the bergère chair opposite of the window, Alvyn standing dutifully by Hawke's side. Alvyn took note of the Brazilian chestnut buffet and hutch set with a distinct round front against the wall separating the foyer from the sitting room.

"So you say he's obedient?" Governess Goodman asked, breaking Alvyn's attention from the antique trinkets on the buffet of the set. Alvyn set his eyes on the woman, who took the other bergère chair.

"Yes. As you can see, he hasn't said a word since we arrived." Alvyn bit his tongue.

"True, true. But is he willing to withstand any tasks I assign him?"

"Yes, he is indeed in very good condition."

"Turn around boy," the slaveholder snapped, saliva spittle hitting his slave's cheek. Alvyn obeyed without hesitation, presenting his exposed back to Goodman. Urquhart directed his finger to a crooked, permanent scar in shape of an "S" on Alvyn's shoulder blade, created by hot iron against bare flesh.

"Here is the proof that he is in good condition to be a slave, having passed all inspections." Alvyn shuddered at the memory.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Goodman closed the door behind Hawke, and slowly turned around. Alvyn watched her from the sitting room doorway with weary eyes. The woman made a beeline to the youth, slowly plastering a warm smile on her face.

"Welcome to your new home." Alvyn brought his bound hands to the woman, watching her releasing the manacles.

"There! Now you don't have to worry about those nasty irons again!" Goodman smiled, a gentle smile, watching her new servant rub his reddened wrists. A twinkle of sympathy shone in her warm light blue eyes, waiting for Alyvn to finish. When he does, his azure orbs connected with Goodman's gaze, a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

"Do you have a name?"

"A-" His voice quiet, throat dry as a desert.

"Alvyn Bennett," he managed to squeak out.

"Well Alvyn, welcome to your new home."

"Thank you Governess-"

"Please, call me Ms. Goodman," corrected the woman.

"Yes gov-er-Ms. Goodman. What do you wish for me to do?" Goodman smiled.

"For today, you'll rest. You will begin tomorrow at dawn. There will be a list of assigned tasks that needs to be done," the saggy subcutaneous fat around Governess Goodman's neck vibrated as she explained. When through, Goodman gazed out of the foyer, where the grand staircase laid.

"Drake? Brian?" A dark brown furred and a light tan-furred male chipmunks wearing homespun cloth trotted from around the corner. The light tan-furred chipmunk stood a head taller than Alvyn, a linen shirt covered his middle built torso, light hazel eyes and khaki pantaloons. The other chipmunk mere centimeters taller than the newcomer and hazel green eyes, wore the same attire as the first but his jacket black. The dark brown chipmunk stepped forward.

"You wished to see us Ms. Goodman?"

"That's correct Drake. I want you and Brian take Alvyn to be bathed and give him a fresh set of clothing. Have nourishments prepared for him in the servant's quarters. He'll begin tomorrow. Noon the latest."

"Understood, Ms. Goodman," piped Brian. Both chipmunks took a place next to Alvyn. The azure blue-eyed slave looked over his shoulder at his new master as he was lead away.

* * *

Little crappy I know, but I'm still working on it . . . somewhat ¬¬

"Bennett" is the last name of the president of _**Liberty Records**_, _**Al Bennett**_, one of the three record executives **_Ross Bagdasarian Sr._** named the _Chipmunks_ after. So unless you wanna do research and find out who the other two are, the names of the other executives of the aforementioned United States-based record label will be revealed much later.

The surname "Goodman" is named after _**Dolores "Dody" Goodman **_who voiced _Miss Beatrice Miller_. Apparently, a lot of people want her to be portrayed by **_Betty White_** in the live action/CGI. Seriously.

The term "ánthrōpos _morphē_" is two Greek words combined to derive the term "anthropomorphism." **Ánthrōpos** = _human_ and **morphē** = _shape_ or _form_.


	3. Goodman's Infirmary

Sorry for the long wait but here is chapter three and thank you for being patient. So I went back and completely rewrote chapter one so go back and review or if you all ready reviewed it while signed in, don't fret, you can simple review without being signed in.

Also, should I have both _Chipmunks_ and _Chipettes_ names altered or leave them? If you want me to alter them, just say so and I reloaded my What name variant should ALVIN have? poll so ya'll have another chance to vote which name should _Jeanette_ have! And the same will go for _Brittany_, _Simon_, _Eleanor_ and _Theodore_. I'll try to get chapter four up soon.

**Cokuruscana**: A-a-actually, _Ian Hawke_ is a slave trader, not a master. A slave trader is someone whose business was the buying and selling of slaves to the highest bidder. A slave master is something what _Miss Miller_ is, she owns slaves . . . and _Ian Hawke_ will return with _Claudia_.

**Chipmunkgirl234**: Thanks!

**MollieGirl123**: Not for long . . .

**DISCLAIMER**

_Alvin Seville _and _Jeanette Miller_ are rightfully owned by **_Bagdasarian Productions_**.

_Drake Harris_ is an OC created and owned by **_Scarcrow88_**.

_Brian Timothy Smitherman_ is an OC created and owned by _**ChipmunkFan19**_.

_Indigo (Ana) Ianne Beetler_ is an OC created and owned by** ILuvLucyPevensie**.

_Harlie Jade Alyssa Simmons_ is an OC created and owned by **iChipetteGal**.

* * *

Alvyn entered the small, cubic room Brian and Drake showed him, his hair damp but free from the grime and dry blood. He now wore a pair of homespun, coarsely woven burgundy pants made of only two pieces of fabric and a new pair of red russet brogans with brass toes. The odiferous potent liniment Brian and Drake rubbed on his bare back stung like pins and needles.

Alvyn look around the room. The walls and ceiling brilliant white and wooden floorboards waxed. To Alvyn's left, a mattress of three feet by six feet covered with linen laid on a base consists of a raised, flat, hard horizontal surface four feet off the ground and a woven quilt on top the mattress along with a pillow. Opposite the bed, a small table comprising two bronze handmade trestles supports linked by a longitudinal cross-member, which a slab of marble placed on top.

A glass carafe filled with water placed behind a large dish filled with bread and mathri salted crackers sat untouched on the table. Sounds of painful rumbles erupted from Alvyn's stomach as he licked his parched lips. In a blink of an eye, Alvyn quickly ran over to the table and grabbed the decanter with two hands. Bringing the rim up to his lips, the slave began gulping large quantities of water, the liquid making its way down his dehydrated throat, some dripped down his lower jaw. Placing the glass carafe back down on the tabletop, he began devouring the bread and mathri salted crackers, much more than his cheeks could handle.

A female fourteen-year-old light brown fur gopher standing four feet six and a half inches in her early teens appeared in the doorway, immediately transfixed at the sight of Alvyn rushing handful of rations in his mouth. Raising her eyebrow, she silently watched him pick up the decanter again, holding a mathri salted cracker in one hand.

Taking two or three gulps of water, Alvyn notices the female ánthrōpos morphē gopherin the doorway from his left peripheral view. Swallowing, Alvyn placed the decanter, grabbed the cloth on the table, wiping the water and crumbs off his orifice before turning his attention to the doorway. The gopher wore the same attire as Jeanette though replacing the purple with light blue and a white bonnet covering her blonde hair. In her arms, she held a thick reddish colored brimless soft headgear with a peak and a flat crown on top a folded shirt rich tint of off white as well as a medium pale tint of yellow.

Silence filled the room as the two waited for the other to make the first move. Alvyn looked down at the hand holding the mathri-salted cracker back to the woman and then back to his hand. The protuberance of his throat rising up and down, Alvyn stretches his hand further in front of him, offering the mathri-salted cracker to the gopher slave.

"Uuugh," was his only reply. She snapped out of her stupor and shook her head, smiling.

"Oh no, please . . . they're all yours," she began, walking through the doorway.

"Eat as much as you wish. Ms. Goodman knows the process of slave traders only feeding their 'properties' as they call slaves before auctioning . . . wanting to keep their expenses low as possible in order to make maximum profit . . ." She shook her head, her eyes drooping to the ground and pupils shrinking.

"I remembered how my slave trader stopped feeding me three days before I was sold to Ms. Goodman . . ." she heaved a deep sigh.

"Anyways, my name is Indigo," she introduced herself, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand and plastering a smile on her face, looking at Alvyn. He just stood there, staring right back at her. Indigo's brows knitted together and her nostrils flared in annoyance.

"Well, don't you have a name?" she crowed.

"Oh!" Alvyn realized his missed cue.

"A-A-A-Alvyn!" he stuttered. Indigo's features soften once again before speaking.

"Alvyn," she repeated. The chipmunk nodded.

"I was told to give you these." Alvyn took the linen shirt and wool cap as Indigo continued.

"Now that you are an official servant-"

"Servant?" the male interrupted, poking his head through the collar.

"Ms. Goodman acknowledges the barbaric use of people treating other human beings as if they're property as 'servants.' She believes the word 'slave' to be derogatory . . ." Alvyn raised a brow, slipping an arm through a sleeve.

"Anyways, you would receive two linen shirts, two pair of pants, one jacket, one pair of shoes, one pair of socks, an overcoat and a wool hat once a year. Breakfast is at break of dawn, lunch is when the sun is at the highest peak in the sky and supper is once the sun disappears below the horizon. Between those times, you are to do the tasks assigned to you on the plaque right by the back door. After dinner, you are free to do what you please . . ." Alvyn nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"For tonight, you will be sleeping here and either I or someone will show you the sleeping quarters tomorrow. Are there any questions?"

"Um . . ." Alvyn scratched the back of his head, tightly closing his eyes. In a second, his eyes opened and he looked back at Indigo.

"Yes, what roo-"

"I-Indigo?" A recognizable quivering voice entered the room. Jeanette walked in, carrying a tray with a kettle and a teacup.

"S-sorry to intrude b-but Zia sent me here to give the new servant the brewed tea under Mr. Radcliffe's orders." Jeanette moved her eyes from Indigo to a fully clothed Alvyn. His shirt had a crisscrossed laced front and sleeves four inches below the elbows. Indigo took the tray from Jeanette's hands.

"Thank you Jeanette." Jeanette gave her a meek smile before exiting the room as quickly as she entered. Alvyn watched Indigo place the tray onto the table.

"This tea should help your muscles relax, untangle those stressed knots . . ." Indigo took a two-inch stick and stirred the contents inside the teacup. Tapping the stick on the rim, she handed the cup to Alvyn. A smell of burnt rubber reached Alvyn's nose making the man bare his clenched teeth and squeezing his eyes shut.

"It may have a repugnant smell but I assure you, it's good for you." Alvyn gave Indigo a wary side-glance before compliantly bringing the cup to his lips once more, covering his vibrating hand that held the cup with the other one. Closing his eyes, Alvyn forced himself to swallow the liquid. Alvyn felt drops of water made his way down his cheeks, the aroma of the tea stinging his eyes. During that time, Indigo quickly left the room. Swallowing the last drop of tea, Alvyn felt a sense of vertigo, his vision becoming fuzzy by the second. A queasy feeling merged in his stomach, as sensations of pins and needles made his legs numb. Blackness ebbed at his eyes as Alvyn began swaying. A hand grabbed the teacup just as Alvyn released it, his knees buckled and collapsed.

* * *

For those who may not know what the table is called, it's a trestle table.


End file.
